


Pause the Tragic Ending

by track_04



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-21
Updated: 2011-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 18:38:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/pseuds/track_04
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel's always known the way this story has to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pause the Tragic Ending

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of a late night conversation with missmonster about what Gabriel would look like with a female vessel (so, she is basically to blame for all this). Title taken from the Rachael Yamagata song of the same name.

The first and single greatest truth that Gabriel ever learns about herself (and life and the universe) is this: she is a messenger.

She is _the_ Messenger.

It's what she does, it's who she is, it's the greater purpose that her Father created her for. She was made by her father to deliver His word to her brothers and sisters and all of Creation, and it's a job that she performs without question, wholeheartedly and with the knowledge that this is all part of her Father's plan.

This is the way she spends the beginning of her existence, believing that she's part of a greater plan. She's content, if not happy (but what angel is, really?), and if she sometimes has questions, well, so do some of her brothers and sisters. She tells herself that questions equal curiosity and not doubt, and she almost believes it.

Until the day that she notices the first seeds of that doubt that she's refused to acknowledge spreading through heaven. It starts with whispers in shadowed places, questioning looks from some of her brethren when she delivers her Father's word, like they no longer take what she has to say at face value anymore. From there, the seeds sprout, growing into hurt, anger, rebellion--things that have never had a place in heaven, things that they've always been told angels shouldn't even be able to feel. Things that Gabriel shouldn't be able to feel.

But she does feel, just as more and more of her brothers and sisters do, and it only gets worse with the combination of time and what she later recognizes as Lucifer's encouragement.

Eventually all of the feelings and doubt lead to war, and Gabriel is forced to pick a side, to choose between the two brother that they all loved best. She chooses heaven and hopes that their Father will put a stop to this or that Lucifer will swallow his pride, but with each day and each of her brothers and sisters that she has to kill, she learns to resent having to choose at all.

The feelings that she'd tried to ignore before--doubt, hurt, anger, defiance--grow and grow with each passing moment that her siblings spend slaughtering each other and her Father does nothing to stop it. She doubts which side--if any side at all--is right in this. She's hurt that Lucifer and Michael would ask this of them--of her--knowing what would happen. She's angry that, through all this, her Father is silent and aloof as ever.

For the first time in her long existence, she wonders what exactly the point of it is, if there's really any grand plan at all.

The war ends, but the feelings stay. Heaven feels emptier now with so many of her brothers and sisters fallen or dead and so many of the ones left behind doubtful and bitter. And then their Father leaves them and Gabriel finds out, finally, what the grand plan that fate has in store for all of them is.

And to be quite honest, the plan sucks.

She doesn't mind the parts involving an end to her siblings' bickering and a Paradise for all of her Father's children to share. Even the idea of rivers of blood or the moon (which has always been her favorite celestial body) being cleft in twain or a third of her father's creation being burnt out of existence are things she can deal with when she thinks about them as part of the bigger picture. But she can't stand the fact that if she sticks around for the final prize fight, it's going to mean being forced to choose one of her brothers over the other all over again. Choose one side and she betrays Michael and those brothers and sisters who fought for their beliefs; choose the other and she betrays Lucifer and all of her brothers and sisters who fell for theirs. Choose either and she'll have to pick up her sword and start killing her family all over again. It might be destiny and fate and the way things are meant to be, but Gabriel wants no part of it. She refuses to make that choice again.

So she does the only thing that she can think to do and she runs, hiding herself away from her brothers and sisters and leaving her home behind, taking refuge the last place that any angel would ever think to look for her.

She gives herself a new face, a new name, a new identity, and tries to forget what it feels like to kill someone that she loves. She learns to be more than just an angel, more than a messenger. She learns what it feels like to laugh and the way blood feels between her fingers, finds out she loves the taste of chocolate and is constantly amazed at the depth of human imagination.

She waits for the ending that they all know is coming and the two human boys who will lead them to it, telling herself that at least when this is all over, she'll finally be able to go home.

\--

The first time Gabriel sees Sam Winchester, he's a little boy sitting on the dirty stoop outside the hotel room he's sharing with his father and older brother, his face covered in equal parts chocolate ice cream and intense concentration. He'd look just like any other four year old, right down to the unruly hair and the grass stains on the knees of his pants, if it weren't for the wrongness that she can see in his soul.

It's a little thing, really, probably not even noticeable to any of her brothers and sisters who aren't in on upper management's grand plans, but it's hard to miss once you know what to look for. And Gabriel's always been especially good at deciphering messages that others try to keep hidden; it's all part of the job description.

She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the side of the motel, watching that thread of darkness swirl around the little boy's soul while he attacks his ice cream cone with the sort of total and complete concentration that humans can really only manage before the age of five. Gabriel notes this in an offhand way, most of her attention focused not on the little boy and his ice cream cone, but on that one tiny flaw in that bright ball of light that is more _Sam_ than any body made of mere flesh and bone could ever be.

She frowns a little, the small knot of _something_ that she can feel floating along the edges of her grace making her pause. She feels... well, she's not sure what she feels, just that she _does_. And whatever it is is directed at the little boy sitting on the cracked concrete step of this rundown motel in the middle-of-nowhere, Iowa, more concerned right now with finishing off his ice cream before it melts onto his hands than destiny or fate or any larger cosmic plan.

She doesn't get a chance to finish the thought, though; another little boy--Dean, Gabriel knows automatically, the bond between the two boys strong enough that she wonders how the whole world doesn't realize just how special and dangerous these two are--slips out of their hotel room, a dingy hotel washcloth clutched in his hand and a look of fond exasperation on his face. She watches as he kneels in the dirt in front of Sam, waiting for the younger boy to finish the soggy remains of his cone, expression a strange mixture of fondness and irritation.

"You're supposed to get it _in_ your mouth, Sammy."

"I _am_."

Dean acts put out as he waits for Sam to finish up, but Gabriel can see the love he has for Sam shining in his soul, so bright and beautiful that it's a bit hard to look at.

"Whatever. I can't wait until you're old enough to eat like a human being."

"I _do_ eat like a human being." Sam is stubbornly glaring at his brother, his soul shining with a kind of righteous, affectionate annoyance that reminds Gabriel so much of Lucifer back before his fall that she has to smile.

Dean rolls his eyes, waiting for Sam to swallow before he reaches up to start scrubbing the little boy's face clean, ignoring his sputters and protests. When Gabriel looks at his soul she can see so much love and light and an already pervasive _need_ for self-sacrifice there that it's easy to see why this little boy with his freckles and his missing front tooth and his t-shirt that's half a size too small has to be the one that breaks the first seal. Even this young, he's already like Michael used to be--back before they all started killing each other, before their Father ran out on them and Gabriel decided to follow his cue and do the same--loving and dutiful and more than a little sad.

"Didn't you get it all yet?" Sam tries to pull his face away, but Dean holds on tight and continues attacking the last stubborn bits of ice cream.

"If you'd hold still it wouldn't take so long," Dean grumbles but relents, letting go of Sam's face and ruffling his hair.

Sam squeaks and tries to bat his brother's hand away, that taint in his soul seeming like such a small thing with the way his soul shines in that moment.

Neither boy hears the flutter of wings as Gabriel disappears a moment later, taking her curiosity over just what the world has in store for these two little boys that were born to end it with her.

\--

Gabriel is crouched on her knees on the sidewalk petting a dog--a stray who's a bit on the skinny side and starved for affection, but with big brown eyes and a friendly demeanor that makes her contemplate, just for a moment, taking him home--when she sees Sam Winchester for the second time. He's got a bag slung over one shoulder and a guilty look on his face as he steps down off the bus, looking awkward and a bit out of place without his brother by his side.

He's older now, much older by human standards than the last time she saw him, teetering on that edge between child and adult. He looks small in his too-big sweatshirt that's fraying at the cuffs, but his soul is enormous, full of so much possibility that Gabriel suspects that her father might be the only one who truly understands it.

Sam glances over and sees her with the dog, hesitating just long enough that it's obvious he's weighing the pros and cons of approaching a stranger before he walks up to her, trying so very, very hard to look brave.

"Excuse me..."

"You need something, kiddo?" Gabriel smiles, scratching behind the dog's ears absently as she meets Sam's eyes.

He wrinkles his nose a little at the name and tightens his grip on the handle of his bag. "I was wondering if you could tell me where the Rodeway Inn is?"

"New to town, huh?" The dog whines softly, but she shushes it and slips her hand into her pocket to pull out a pack of gum.

"Yeah." He rubs at the back of his neck with his free hand and offers another nervous smile. "I wrote down the directions when I reserved a room, but I forgot them at home. Stupid, huh?"

She hums noncommittally and gives him a pointed look. "You look a little young to be wandering the wild streets of Flagstaff all by yourself."

"I'm older than I look." He shifts his feet and glances around. "I'm just short for my age."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to call the fuzz on you." She pops a piece of gum in her mouth and stands, offering the pack to him with a grin, waiting until he waves it off with a soft 'no thank you' before shoving it back in her pocket. "The place you're looking for is about five miles from here, but if you head up Milton Avenue, there are a few places that are cheap and usually have rooms available."

"Thanks," Sam mumbles, offering her a slightly nervous, if genuine, smile, looking a little embarrassed that a complete stranger saw through him so easily.

"Welcome." She returns his smile and gives a slight nudge with her grace, just enough to calm him down. "Hope you have fun while you're here."

"Yeah--thanks. I will."

She smiles one last smile and turns to walk away, wondering how long it will be before he gets homesick or his brother and father manage to find him. A few days at the least, a few weeks at the most, probably. Just long enough for Sam to get a taste of freedom and for Dean to realize just how terrified he is of his brother ever leaving him.

"Uh--Miss? You forgot your dog!"

She stops and smiles when Sam calls out to her, standing just shy of the end of the block as she turns to wave her hand at the dog currently parked at Sam's feet, looking at Sam like he thinks the boy might be his own personal savior.

"He's not mine. Just some stray that was following me around." She gives the dog a little push with her grace for good measure, watching as he puts his paw on Sam's shoe. She can practically see the moment that Sam's heart melts. "But I think he likes you."

With one last wink she turns and disappears around the corner, snapping her gum and humming softly to herself as she goes.

\--

College bars are one of Gabriel's favorite places to spend her down time. Not only because they're good places to go trawling for new targets--douche-bags seem to be drawn to these places like moths to a flame--but it's easy for her to blend in, even with the cheap neon hair bobbles and mismatched layered skirts that she favors these days. Places like this are just full of young people struggling to prove their individuality, which means that the girl in the floral skirt and polka dot socks doesn't so much as merit a second look.

Unless Gabriel wants them to look, of course.

The crowd parts around her easily as she makes her way to the bar, all the drunken little co-eds stepping out of her way, moving before they even really notice that she's there. She slides up to an empty space at the bar, flashing a winning smile at the bar tender and ordering something that's obnoxiously colored and appropriately fruity. Her elbow bumps against another as she sets her money on the counter, and she turns to face the too-tall man standing next to her wearing an apologetic expression and a familiar stain on his soul.

Or towering over her, to be more accurate. Apparently little Sam Winchester has grown in more ways than one since the last time she saw him.

"Sorry." He smiles at her sheepishly and Gabriel thinks that only Sam Winchester would bother to apologize for brushing elbows with a stranger at a crowded bar.

"You should be. I'd make you buy me a drink to make up for it, but your date might get jealous." She takes the glass that the bar tender slides in front of her and sips at it, ignoring the press of people at her back, clamouring for her place. She gives them all a little invisible push, makes them back off and forget why getting a drink seemed quite so important.

"My date?" There's a brief flicker of suspicion in Sam's eyes, a left over from the life that he thinks he's left behind. It's quick enough that anyone else would probably miss it, but Gabriel is not anyone else, and despite the distance she's forced herself to maintain when it comes to the Winchesters, sometimes she feels like she knows them both better than herself. Definitely better than she knows most of her own brothers or sisters anymore.

"I figured you were here with someone." She motions at the beers in front of Sam and watches his shoulders relax. "Unless both of those are for you. You don't look like the type to double fist your drinks to me, but stranger things have happened."

"I'm not sure if I should be insulted by that or not." He smiles and up close it's almost blinding, even with the stain on his soul and the stench of destiny surrounding him.

"Take it however you want." She takes another sip of her drink and nods her head toward the table in the corner where she can see Sam's date waiting for him, a pretty blonde girl who has no idea that in a few short years she's going to die a horrible death because someone somewhere decided she needed to fall for the boy with the stupid hair who's currently buying the first two beers that they'll share together. "If that's your date over there in the corner, you'd better take her that beer before someone else snatches her away."

"How did you--" Sam frowns, the suspicion back and Gabriel answers it with a grin.

"She's waving at you, sport."

"I--crap, I should get back." Sam smiles one more of his adorably nervous smiles as he takes his beers, hesitating for a split second before he's swallowed up by the crowd.

Gabriel watches as he rejoins his date at their table, toying briefly with the idea of interrupting them, maybe planting the idea in one or both of their heads that their date isn't going so well and they want to leave, sending them on separate paths that leave them friendly acquaintances and nothing more. She can almost see the future that Jessica Moore would have if she made that little change, the career and the marriage to a nice, run-of-the-mill businessman with a friendly smile and a good sense of humor, the house and the kids and the occasional fights. It's a bit of a boring ending, but it's as much of a fairy tale as humans ever really get.

It would be so easy to change things now, give Jessica that happy ending and maybe buy Sam and the world a few more years of peace, where he's at least unaware of the fate of the world hanging over his head. But she doesn't.

Because she's tired and she knows, deep down, that there's no stopping something that's already started, that's been in motion since before the beginning of time. With a story that old it's almost a guarantee that the ending's already been written; it doesn't matter if you manage to change a few minor details along the way.

So she ignores the urge and finishes off her drink instead, leaving the empty glass on the sticky bar top as she goes off in search of someone she can teach a lesson that might actually make a difference.

\--

Gabriel really hadn't ever intended to get involved quite so directly with the Winchesters, but when they stumbled into town and onto her latest work, well, who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth? The opportunity to fuck with two of the only humans she's ever taken such a long-term interest in is just too good to resist.

And she has to admit, they actually haven't disappointed her so far. She might even be a little impressed. Even if they're already at each other's throats (and about to be even more so, if she has her way), they've stuck with the case. Working together while the urge to shank one another is so high isn't really something a lot of people can master. Hell, her own brothers and sisters couldn't.

Of course, the Winchesters have a lot of practice.

Gabriel's busy getting her daily dose of caffeine--she could snap her fingers and just make her own, but something about angel mojo and coffee just do not mix, the result something with an aftertaste that's a strange combination of metal and ashes--when the bell above the door to the coffee shop chimes and Sam Winchester slouches his way inside. He has his hands shoved in his pockets and a slight crease between his eyebrows, obviously stewing over the case and his brother and whatever other things he's decided are his responsibility--or Dean's--right at this moment.

Or he could still be crying over the mysterious disappearance of his computer.

Gabriel smiles to herself and turns her attention back to the pitiful excuse for a newspaper rack in front of her, listening to the girl behind the register mumble a bored greeting. She doesn't need to be looking to know that Sam is staring at the menu with that intense look of concentration and thinly veiled angst he gets when things aren't quite going his way. It's a look that she's seen a lot more of over the last few years, now that they're hurtling faster and faster toward the end of the world and she's been peeking in on the two key players more regularly. The game that she's currently playing with them probably isn't helping matters any.

Which makes it that much more fun, really.

She grabs a paper from the bottom of the rack and slides over to eye the overpriced pastries lined up in their display. Sam is still staring at the menu with that far-too-thoughtful look and Gabriel can't resist moving in a bit closer until their elbows brush, just to see him jump.

"Sorry." His answer is soft and sudden, like politeness is a reflex.

"Sorry for what?" She grins and gives him a sidelong look, laying her paper on the counter as she picks through the CD rack in front of the till. It's the same old crap that was in there yesterday and last week and the week before that, that's in every coffee shop in every city in North America, but she always feels the need to check just to see if anything has changed. "I'm surprised a big shot journalist like you would frequent a little hole in the wall like this. There's a Starbucks a block over, you know."

He stares at her, like he wasn't expecting to see anyone he knew--or, more importantly, who knew him--and it takes him a moment to remember what story he and his brother are feeding people this time around. "I like supporting local businesses."

"Ah, so you're a do-gooder. Good to know." She quits pretending to be interested in the cds and turns, resting her hip against the counter and smirking up at him.

"Not really." He snorts, the sound full of that sense of self-loathing that's as natural to the Winchesters as breathing. Or dying. "What about you? You're not at the Starbucks up the street, either."

"They give discounts to campus employees here, and my pay's too shitty to spring for full priced douchey coffee drinks." The girl behind the register is starting to look impatient, so Gabriel throws her a smile. "Besides, the service here is excellent. Right, Amy?"

Sam snorts and gives the girl--Amy--a smile that's equal parts embarrassment and apology, and gets a slight smile from her in return. Gabriel would be offended that apparently Sam's charm trumps hers when it comes to teenage baristas, but she can't really blame the kid; Sam Winchester does have one hell of a smile.

"So, you going to order? It would be a shame if you wasted a whole morning that could be spent sleuthing standing around here, contemplating the best latte to start off your day."

The bitchface he gives her is half-hearted at best, like he's not quite annoyed enough to be blatantly rude to a stranger. "Do you always make this much of a point to harass people you've barely know?"

"Only the ones I really like." She grins, watching as he turns and rattles off an order for something sugary enough that she's willing to forgive him for the fact that it's also low fat. He pays from a stack of bills--mostly ones and fives, but it looks impressive anyway--kept in a money clip, one of the old fashioned metal ones that Gabriel didn't think anyone under the age of sixty-five carried anymore. "Was that so hard?"

Sam snorts and slides down the counter, smiling and watching Gabriel like he's not quite sure whether she's endearing, annoying, or a little bit of both. It's a watered down, more reserved version of the way he looks at his brother sometimes. She chooses to take it as a compliment for now. "I guess not."

Neither of them bother commenting further as Gabriel places her order and Sam waits for his drink, but the smile lingers at the edges of Sam's mouth like a forgotten thing, and he gives her a little wave when he eventually gets his coffee and turns to leave.

She waves back and waits until he disappears through the door to reach into her pocket, pulling out Sam`s money clip and turning it over in her hands. She'd feel a little bad about this part if he hadn't made it quite so easy.

\--

Gabriel is sitting on an empty double bed somewhere in rural Tennessee when she wonders for the first time if maybe she's gone too far. Sam is in the room's other bed, sprawled out on his back between sheets that have seen much better days, limbs flung out in all directions and mouth hanging open slightly. He'd almost look peaceful if Gabriel couldn't peek into his head and see his dreams, all blood and darkness and hellfire. They're not nearly as bad as the real thing, but she'd be worried about any living creature that could actually dream up the things that go on in Hell without ever having seen them.

It's been three months and all Sam thinks about is Dean.

Dean and her. Or the trickster that she pretends to be--or is, maybe. She's not really sure anymore.

The hotel room is done up in shades of yellow, orange, and brown that went out of style before disco officially died, the ceiling tiles cheap and yellowed and the bedspread almost threadbare. The carpet is so stained that it's hard to tell what the original color even was, dark in some places and light in others, some stains looking more suspicious than others.

The sign outside the hotel advertises cheap rooms for hunters, the kind that buy licenses and shoot deer and water fowl and other wild life. Gabriel wonders how many of the other type of hunters--the Winchester kind of hunter--use it like Sam is now.

The place is a total dive, even compared to the places that Sam usually frequents, and Gabriel wonders if Sam was so tired he stopped at the first place that he found or if he really is so far out of his head that he didn't mind staying in a place with a hook to hang your kill outside the door and rooms that smelled like old blood. She'd like to think the former, but she knows better, really; Sam's wearing himself so thin and is so far past caring about anything but revenge that it won`t be long before he just flies apart at the seams.

Which is exactly what Gabriel knew would happen. She'd just hoped that maybe she could get through to that thick skull of his, so that when Dean did die--and he would die in the real world once she put them back because it was the way this story was meant to go--that Sam wouldn't be completely and totally broken by the time he got back.

So much for that plan.

Or non-plan, really. She's not really sure what she was trying to do here anymore; teach Sam a lesson, sure, but to what end? If Sam learns to let go, to not fall into this cycle of torment and revenge, then he doesn't break the final seal and the apocalypse never happens.

A nice thought, maybe, but not one that's ever going to happen. Not when everything is pointing in the other direction. It doesn`t matter how much some small part of Gabriel would like nothing better than to never have to see two of her brothers trying to kill each other ever again, even if it means that things continue on and on and on like this forever. What Gabriel wants has never really been part of the bigger picture.

Spending the better part of several millennia around humans has obviously made her disgustingly sentimental. If she keeps up this way, she'll end up just as stupid and fatalistic as they are. Luckily, she still knows how to cut her losses while she's ahead.

Gabriel watches Sam twitch in his sleep and sighs, moving to stand beside the bed and leaning over him slowly, reaching up to press two fingers against his forehead. She forces his dreams away, replacing them with an empty field she saw once in Nebraska and the memory of a dog they both knew in Flagstaff.

"See you back in Broward County, kiddo," she murmurs, disappearing with the soft sound of feathers and reappearing at an all night truck stop near Oklahoma City. She orders three pieces of pie and a strawberry milkshake, smiling at the faint look of disgust on the waitress' face, and gives Sam a few hours before she places the call that will put an end to this little game.

\--

Gabriel is sitting in a diner in Fort Wayne, Indiana when she feels the tremor run through the entirety of her Father's creation and hears her brothers and sisters clearly for the first time in years. She nearly drops her coffee cup, the illusion of a middle-aged business man in a wrinkled suit and mismatched socks that she's wrapped around herself flickering in her surprise.

_Dean Winchester is saved._

The sound of the heavenly chorus is so bright, so righteous in its joy that, for just a moment, she forgets that there's no way this won't end in blood and just lets herself enjoy the sound of her brethren rejoicing.

She closes her eyes and wraps a hand around her coffee cup, letting herself remember the beauty of heaven and the feeling of being surrounded by family.

Then the moment fades and she remembers that, in the end, one of her brothers will die by the other's hand (and many, many more in-between), and that even if it all ends in Paradise, things will never be the way they were before this all began.

She sets her coffee cup down on the cracked formica table top and blocks the voices out, wondering if Sam Winchester can feel the change in the air wherever he is. She could always go and check, pop in and watch him from a distance before flitting away again, but for once she finds she doesn't want to see. Doesn't have to, really. She caught enough of a glimpse of the road that Sam Winchester would take after Dean died and made his merry little way to Hell back in Broward County. The details may be different this time, but the result will be the same.

She lifts her hand and calls the waitress over, ordering a slice of coconut cream pie and a piece of strawberry cheese cake. Maybe when she finishes here she'll head to a little place in San Francisco with top-notch Tiramisu. The end of the world will be here soon enough; she might as well indulge in all her favorite earthly pleasures while she still can.

\--

Gabriel is in Janesville, Wisconsin eating a caramel sundae and contemplating the best way to take out a crooked businessman who's made a fortune conning the elderly out of their life savings when the last seal breaks.

She feels the tremor as Lilith dies, can hear the frantic cries of her brothers and sisters--the younger ones that make up the lower ranks, the ones who are going to serve as canon fodder in a war of their older siblings' design--and she feels a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. Relief because she's tired of this story and tired of hiding and tired of waiting for the end. Disappointment because even though she's always known where this was heading, she'd let a part of herself, however small, hope that the Winchesters were stubborn enough to change things, even when all of her knowledge and experience were screaming at her that there was no way that could happen.

Part of her wishes that she were in Ilchester right now. It's obviously the part of her that's more sentimental than bright, the part of her that sometimes still considers returning home or making her way to Hell and trying to talk sense into her stubborn, asshole brothers. The part of her that has her popping in on Sam Winchester at odd times, just to watch him eat ice cream or argue with his brother or sleep the fitful sleep of someone with far too much riding on their shoulders.

She's starting to suspect that that part of her is going to get her killed one of these days.

She pushes the thought away, locking it up in the back of her mind along with the muffled voices of her brothers and sisters and focuses on finishing her sundae. She's getting ready to take the final bite when she feels it, another shift in the world.

Seconds later, Dean and Sam Winchester appear on a plane over Maryland, whole and intact, and one of her younger brothers--one of the ones who should be nothing more than canon fodder, but in that instant manages to become much, much more--explodes, only to be pieced together again and tossed somewhere in rural Wyoming.

"Huh. Didn't see that coming," she mumbles, spoon poised in mid-air.

\--

"I thought the point of witness protection was to blend in."

"I am blending in." Gabriel smacks her gum and flops down on one of the room's battered armchairs, throwing her legs over the side and looking more like the crazy art teacher that Sam had for a few weeks in some school somewhere in Iowa in the 6th grade than one of Heaven's deadliest weapons.

Sam pointedly eyes her outfit, all bright colors and mismatched patterns and so many accessories and layers that it looks like she mugged a 13 year old Disney Channel show extra to put it together. "That's blending in?"

"I'll have you know that this is a top of the line meatsuit. You wouldn't believe what I had to pay for work of this caliber." She grins, bracelets clinking together as she waves her hand in the air dismissively.

"I wasn't talking about--you stick out like a sore thumb dressed like that, you know."

She snorts, holding out her hand to offer him a bright orange sucker that wasn't there a moment before with a wink. "You, Sam Winchester, are adorably human. You do realize that the mooks upstairs could give half a shit about human fashion conventions, right? Even if they understood them, you guys all look the same to them. Why else do you think they all dress like extras in the Blues Brothers?"

"Makes sense, I guess," Sam admits, eyeing the sucker suspiciously.

"It's just a sucker." Gabriel arches an eyebrow, waving it back and forth in front of Sam's face until he gives in and finally reaches up to take it. "You'd think you didn't trust me. Good way to hurt a girl's feelings."

"It's not like you've given me any reason not to trust you or anything."

"So I killed your brother a few hundred times and gave you herpes. That was _ages_ ago. You know holding a grudge is a sin."

"Holding a grudge is not a sin."

"Close enough. An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, Sammy. Time to forgive and forget."

"It's Sam." He shoots her a look, mouth opening and closing like he's not quite sure if he should argue or not. He catches the look on her face--smug and knowing and entirely too pleased--and breathes out heavily through his nose as he gives in and tastes the sucker instead, looking vaguely shocked when nothing horrible happens. He doesn't bother trying to hide his surprise as he meets Gabriel's eyes. "This is good."

"Please, I'm a professional here. If I was going to fuck with you, I'd do more than give you shitty tasting candy. Well... probably, anyway."

He ignores the slew of comments he could make in response to that and tastes the sucker again instead. "It tastes familiar."

"It's from that candy shop Dean used to take you to that summer you spent in Corpus Christi."

"Seriously?"

"There are a lot of things I'll do, but lying about candy is not one of them."

"Uh, then... thanks. I guess."

She snorts, reaching out to pat him on the knee. "Don't say I never did anything for you, kid."

Sam pulls a face and opens his mouth to comment, but there's a soft rustle of feathers and she's gone before he can even decide what he wants to say, leaving the room smelling faintly of ozone and grape bubblicious in her wake.

\--

The thing that probably surprises Gabriel the most about dying is just how much it _hurts_. Which is stupid, really, considering all the multitude of things she could and should probably be thinking about right now, but all she can really focus on is the pain. She's seen her brothers and sisters fall in battle and even on her own sword, has watched the light fade from the eyes of gods, and has seen more humans die than she can even begin to count. She's _killed_ more humans than she can even begin to count, usually in creative and generally horrible ways, but she's never stopped to wonder how much dying hurt for any of them.

Not that she's assumed that getting stabbed or being blown apart by lightning or hit by a truck wouldn't involve at least some amount of pain. She's always just assumed that whoever was doing the dying had better things to worry about during their last few moments of life than, "Fuck me, this hurts."

Gabriel's not really one to waste time--especially time as precious as this--regretting the things that she's done that she can't possibly change, but part of her does wish that she'd managed to get herself killed in a way that was a bit less painful. What that way is, she has no idea, but there have to be at least a few ways to die that hurt considerably less than a blade through the chest.

She has just enough time to finish that thought before Lucifer twists the knife, driving it deeper; she can feel her grace sizzle against its edges with the movement, heat and pressure building inside of her as her very essence prepares to explode outward into nothingness. Lucifer rests a hand against the back of her neck and she meets his eyes, the regret there as plain as day, even side-by-side as it is with that sense of righteousness that has only grown stronger for all the years he's spent in Hell.

But for all her brother's certainty that he's _right_ and his need to see this through to the end, in that moment he looks just as tired as Gabriel's felt for centuries. It doesn't last long, just a flicker in his eyes before it's gone again, but it's enough to make her wonder if maybe the Winchesters don't have a shot at winning this, if maybe throwing her lot in with the two boys from Kansas who everyone thought didn't stand a snowball's chance of winning against the forces of Heaven and Hell wasn't such a bad idea after all.

She's still as good as dead, but for the first time in her long, long memory, she doubts that the ending to this story has already been written.

The last and second greatest truth that Gabriel ever learns is that sometimes the details really can make a difference.

She's just sorry that that's one message she won't be around to deliver.


End file.
